


Neverending

by Medie



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-24
Updated: 2010-02-24
Packaged: 2017-10-07 12:41:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/65253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Medie/pseuds/Medie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>they end up at a safe house...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Neverending

**Author's Note:**

  * For [angelsgracie](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=angelsgracie).



> This one was a birthday present for [](http://angelsgracie.livejournal.com/profile)[**angelsgracie**](http://angelsgracie.livejournal.com/).

Hermione attended a lecture once. Of course, in her schooling, she attended many lectures but only the one of them she'd ever attended on Dumbledore's request. She had thought it strange at the time when Ron and Harry had not, but she had not asked. Dumbledore had simply told her to keep it in confidence and so she had.

She'd been the youngest person there. The wizards and witches surrounding her had the air of those who had seen much and done more. But none so much as the man who had given the lecture, his eyes seemed to hold eternity itself in their gaze.

His name was Adam and a decade later, she could easily recall his opening words.

"The world does not change, merely its details."

She'd thought him foolish then, not quite understanding the import of his words. Years later, she learned only too well just how right he was.

It had started during the war with Voldemort and his forces. She'd seen it written in the grim lines of so many faces, variations of 'just one more battle – '. They clung fiercely belief that if they could survive the war, if they could just rid themselves of Voldemort, and those that followed him, all would be well.

They were, Hermione believed, a bunch of fools. Fools who had paid no attention to their own history, never mind the history of Muggles. There was always another one; someone always rose from the ashes of the monster that came before. A dark phoenix rising up to threaten everything and anything held dear. They all believed it and nothing would dissuade them. None of the speeches Harry grew so adept at giving, none of the warnings Hermione, Ron, and all the others gave in quiet mutters.

All of them would have loved nothing better than to disappear, live their lives quietly for a century or two and be at peace. The idiocy of the world around them had seen to the certainty it would be impossible. They couldn't ignore it, she, Harry, Ron…none of them could.

"Gits," Hermione muttered as Ron slumped against her, holding his arm against his side. Behind them, the darkness closed in as her spell provided them a chance to escape. "Hold on then," she said and disapparated.

"Call that a warning?" Ron complained, pain slurring his words, just as soon as they apparated into one of their many safe houses.

She huffed a breath, rolling her eyes as she helped him to a chair. "What else would I call it?"

"Inadequate preparation," he said, grunting as she unfolded his arm to look at. "I might've left a bit of myself on the other side of the country you know."

Hermione grinned wickedly at him, "Just so long as it wasn't the important bit."

He gave her an exasperated look. "Do you think of anything else other than sex?" His complaint was hardly serious, of course, she could see the laughter lurking in his gaze.

"Of course," she said quite primly. "In truth, I only occasionally think about sex. I spend an inordinate amount of my time thinking up wild and imaginative ways to save you and Harry from whatever mad little scheme of the day that you've landed yourselves in. Really, Ron, sometimes I wonder what will happen if you both ever manage to realize that you've actually made it to adulthood."

His arm was not as bad as they'd thought and she set about to cleaning it up.

"Don't think you would want to know that one," he said. "It'd be even worse then. You'd have to spend _all_ your time getting us out of trouble."

She laughed quietly, nodding. In truth, she highly doubted it. The days on which they were not engaged in life-endangering peril were actually quite quiet. Harry had all but turned into a recluse and there were times Hermione wasn't even sure she and Ron actually shared a flat. One never learned to appreciate quiet so much as when one became used to it being shattered by the screams of the dying.

"There," she said when she was done, giving his arm a pat, "good as new."

Ron stretched it experimentally, flexing his fingers as if he wasn't quite sure they were still functioning. "Not bad," he said, nodding. "Make a fine healer, you would," he told her with a grin. "Of course, that would only work if you could get a handle on that temper. Healers aren't supposed to hex their patients back into the stone-age."

"They are if the patients' names happen to be Potter or Weasley," Hermione smarted back. "_Especially_ Weasley, they're generally the worst sort of patient a healer can get." She smacked the healed arm lightly and stood up. "Best send an owl to Harry," she said. "Don't want him thinking we've gone and gotten ourselves blown to bits."

Behind her, Ron snorted and she heard the rustle of his ruined shirt being removed. "You're assuming, of course, that he hasn't."

"Oh, he hasn't," she assured, saying, "It's Harry," as if that explained everything. Which, of course, it largely did, Harry tended to have annoying good luck at surviving things. Sometimes, she suspected it bothered Harry that he had survived so much when so many of their friends had not. She looked back at Ron, watching as he pulled the sweater over his head and turned to look at her. He smiled and she nodded.

"All right then, Hermione?" he asked, crossing the room to rest hands on her shoulders, rubbing as she wrote.

"All right then, Ron," she affirmed, a faint laugh of relief in her voice. He kissed the back of her head as she kept up with the quill, sketching out a brief report of their surveillance, discovery, and brief fight with the wizards they'd been assigned to. They weren't Death Eaters, of course, and certainly nothing like Voldemort, but they were trouble enough. Trouble that had mostly gotten away and Harry wasn't going to like that anymore than Hermione or Ron already did. "There," she said when she was done and held it up for him. "Anything I missed?"

He looked it over, scowling at the description of his injury, and passed it back with a shake of his head. "No." She gave him a look and he sighed, holding out his hand for the quill. "Just a second," he said and leaned over to scribble something at the bottom.

When he was done, he rolled it up and said. "I'll take care of this. You go on and clean up."

She let him pull her into a kiss and the way his mouth moved over hers told her what he'd written. After explaining about Ron, Hermione had left out the part about the curse that had come so close to felling her. She didn't want to worry Harry about how close it had come for them both and really, it hadn't been _that_ close.

Except the way Ron's hands held tight to her as his mouth pressed against hers said it had and she wasn't worrying just Harry.

"Scared the hell out of me, you did," he said when they parted. His breath was ragged and she didn't quite know how to look him in the eye. "Don't do that again."

Hermione smiled and brushed fingers along his lip. "Not until the next time," she said and he groaned, resting his forehead against hers. "I promise." She kissed him then gave him a little shove. "Now, owl!"

The brisk tone of her voice broke the moment and Ron mocked a salute before turning and heading up the stairs to the tiny owlery. By the time he returned, Hermione had cleaned up and crawled into the bed in the corner but not before placing their wands at the ready. Just in case.

Yawning, she lifted the covers for him and Ron crawled inside. Kicking off his shoes, he wrapped himself around Hermione and she retaliated by pressing closer. The adrenaline the fight had kicked up was fading and taking them both with it.


End file.
